Gimp masks and ukuleles might not seem like an obvious combination, and when we are greeted by a man adorning both, I wonder if the two have ever been united before. Originality, it seems, is a feature Alice Bell – the first piece in a three-part series of performances at the Barbican by Lone Twin – has in refreshing abundance.

The story of our eponymous heroine is on the surface deceptively childlike. Alice is sent to school in a land divided by two warring sides. She then runs away and starts a new life – only to find that the past eventually catches up with her. A minimal backstory of the conflict (or of the sinister wearer of the gimp mask Nicholas, played by Paul Gazzol) is provided. But the simplified plot creates a platform for some compelling performances.

The cast deliver the dialogue with rhythmic cadence. At first Molly Haslund, as Alice, has a quality in her voice akin to a schoolgirl reciting lines, a sort of imp-like Bjork. But through relentless repetition, her words become powerfully charged. The movements are also repeated in skillful, choreographed motions, accompanied by more ukuleles.

If this all sounds a bit strange, that’s because it is. But it would be a mistake to think Alice Bell is a production without humour. What makes it so touching are its moments of pure nonsense. Alice’s friend Sarah, played by Nina Tecklenburg, does a lovely routine with her ‘magic hand’ and marital bliss between Alice and Patrick (Antoine Fraval) is captured by a sequence of jumps and cradlings. The cast also do some of the best dog impersonations I’ve seen.

Halsund, Teccklenburg and Gazzol are particularly note worthy, but the whole ensemble works together to create a uniquely haunting mood in this charming yet poignant 75-minute experience.

- Kathleen Hall